


Dead Land's Collided

by d0nkarnage



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bounty Hunter Found Family, Bounty Hunters, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, boogie woogie woogie, bossk and boba have one brain cell and they have to share it, found family trope, i might make this a series, space adventures with lizard dad, you are my daaaaad you're my dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27448726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0nkarnage/pseuds/d0nkarnage
Summary: Bounty hunting can be a complicated profession.
Relationships: Bossk & Boba Fett
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Dead Land's Collided

Boba didn’t remember crashing. 

He didn't remember blacking out, either.

He _definitely_ didn't remember being crushed under 250 pounds of reptilian bounty hunter.

"B-Bossk," he coughed, lungs full of smoke. Something was burning, something probably important. "Bossk, get--get off of me." Pain drew attention to itself in Boba’s ribs, worsened by his hacking and the filth he was breathing, and he realized his face was bare.

_Helmet. Need my helmet. Where--?_

Boba forced his eyes open, blinked through the sting of all the smoke in the air. He closed them again a second later. One look was enough. 

_Hound's Tooth_ was upside-down, and proper wrecked. It was impossible to tell from his current position just _how_ wrecked, but judging from all the sparks spitting out of the ship's electronics and how hard it was to breathe, the damage was probably substantial. Bossk was atop him, one arm wrapped around Boba’s body and the other under his head, which without his helmet was likely all that saved him from cracking his skull open on impact.

They were on the ship’s ceiling, jammed up between the vent shaft and a cable box, wedged tight. His one glimpse had been just long enough to recognize the darkness of the front viewing port as their collision point--the ship had gone down nose first, right into the dirt.

_Miracle the karking thing didn’t cave in, kill us both._

"Bossk," he said again, straining to push at the reptile with the hand not trapped against his side by his guardian's grip. The lizard didn't budge, or grunt, or do anything, except get heavier. Boba groaned, coughed, and punched at Bossk as hard as he could with what little room he had to maneuver in. 

"Seriously, Bossk, _move._ Ugh, you better not be dead!"

_Please don't be dead._

A sudden sound erupted somewhere not far from where they lay, somewhere above them, and Boba recognized it immediately as the sound of squealing metal. His eyes flew open, burn forgotten, and he saw the sparking dashboard directly above them beginning to tear loose from the wall.

"Bossk!" he yelled, ignoring how high-pitched urgency _(fear)_ made his voice sound, and started thrashing, heaving all his bodily weight up over and over, trying to throw the other man off. “Bossk, _kriff,_ wake up!” The tearing sound came again, louder, and Boba was teetering on the verge of panic. This wasn’t his first life-or-death experience, not by a long shot, and it wasn’t like bounty hunters had the longest life expectancy in the galaxy, but he was only twelve and the son of _Jango Fett_ and he wasn’t thrilled at the thought of his life--and career--coming to an end crushed to death under a giant chunk of burning steel.

Something else above him made a sound then, hissing and groggy, and Boba stopped struggling, sagging with instant relief.

“Oh thank the little gods,” he sighed, and was infinitely glad his voice wasn’t shaking in the slightest.

“Boba? What--”

“No time, move, _now.”_

Bossk, to his credit, didn’t need to be told twice. He released the pre-teen under him and was on his feet, albeit a tad unsteadily, when whatever the last mooring holding the ship’s dash together was gave.

Both their heads snapped up to look at it, and had Boba been alone, just a human child with human reflexes, it almost certainly would have turned him into a very, very large stain. Well trained and talented as he was, not even _he_ could move that fast.

But Bossk could, and he did.

One second Boba was on his feet, the next he was _flying_ down the hallway leading out of the cockpit, and he realized a second before gravity caught up with him that Bossk had _thrown_ him out of the way. He heard the dashboard come thundering down behind him while he was still in the air, and by the time he’d slammed into the ceiling/floor, had the wind knocked out of him, bit down on a scream of pain because his _karking ribs_ and gotten to his feet again, the whole thing was over.

“Bossk? Bossk!”

Shouting made his ribs ache. Boba waved frantically at the smoke as he raced back to the cockpit, half jogging half limping, trying not to wheeze as his lungs rebelled with every step.

“Right here, kid,” came the reptile’s low hiss from the end of the corridor, and he was there, shuffling to meet him about halfway, clearly in pain but thankfully alive. Boba wanted to ask where he was hurt, ask how he’d managed to dodge the falling debris, but the smoke wasn’t getting any thinner. Power had been cut off to certain systems, and if ventilation had failed it was only a matter of time until something else did, too.

As if reading his mind, right on cue, a sharp _pop_ crackled below them, and every light in the ship abruptly dimmed to nothingness. The last thing Fett saw was Bossk--then the darkness was so complete he couldn’t have seen a blaster if it were right in front of his face. Which meant he also didn’t see the scaly hand that grabbed his armored shoulder without warning, and he _did not_ jump, not in the least.

“Just me,” Bossk said, voice mild, and more ragged than Fett liked. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Boba didn’t argue. Without the night vision of his helmet he was effectively blind, and as well as he knew _Hound’s Tooth_ he’d never tried to traverse it upside-down, in the dark, with decreasingly breathable air. Luckily for them both Trandoshans could see exceptionally well in the dark, and Bossk took pride in knowing his ship like the back of his claws. 

Boba also didn’t argue when his fellow bounty hunter switched his grip from shoulder to hand--it was the easiest way to do this, and Bossk was most certainly _only_ doing it for the sake of saving both their asses, and not because Boba was a child that needed his hand held--and he didn’t cling to his comrade’s hand like a lifeline, either.

It felt like hours before they located the cargo ramp; in reality it was five minutes, max. The moment they reached it Bossk screeched to a halt, swearing luridly in Dosh under his breath.

“What? What is it?” The air was a little clearer in the cargo bay, letting them both breathe easier, and it had momentarily taken the edge off Fett’s worry--until Bossk starting growling and clicking, anyway.

An animalistic hiss left him, one Boba had heard the Trandoshan make whenever a job wasn’t going exactly as planned. 

“Door’s too high,” he snarled. There was a pause, and Fett felt Bossk turn to regard him in the dark. “If the controls are still operational, once it’s open I can hoist you up. If they ain’t, I’ll have to find a vent I can cram you into. Maybe you can crawl out.”

“What about you?” Boba asked, and if he sounded worried to his own ears, well that was probably just the oxygen deprivation making him delirious.

“If the door opens, I _should_ be able to jump it,” he said. He didn’t elaborate with a backup plan; that was fairly damning evidence that he didn’t have one. 

“And if you can’t?” Boba stressed, yanking Bossk’s arm. “You’re no good to me dead!” A second later the pre-teen nearly fell flat on his face, the cool scaly hand ripped away in the dark, accompanied by a furious bunch of inhuman snorts and clicks. Too late Fett remembered the other man was hurt somewhere, and had probably just exacerbated it.

“Oh _kriff!_ Bossk, are you--”

“I’m _fine,”_ he growled, sounding anything but. “Just--Just come here. I’m gonna need to boost you up to the control panel.” He didn’t wait for Boba’s confirmation, instead seizing him by a shoulder pauldron and tugging him along through the blackness, leaving him to fumble blindly, arms wheeling, until the next abrupt stop, and then one hand became two, grabbing him under his armpits and lifting him up.

Every rib in his chest lit up with white hot pain, and he was incapable of swallowing a short, strangled little cry. Bossk let go of him at once.

“Boba--”

“My ribs. They’re just b-broken,” he explained through shallow, shaky gasps. His arms encircled his torso instinctively, and he hated that he couldn’t stop himself from doing it.

“ _Just_ broken?!”

“You’re busted up too,” Boba accused. “We can lick our wounds when we’re out.” He thought Bossk might press it--after a beat he just clacked his teeth together in annoyance, and reached for Boba again, carefully this time.

“Be quick about it, then.”

Bossk grunted, inhaling fast and hard through his nostrils as he put Boba onto his shoulders and braced them both against the cargo bay wall. It was obvious he wasn’t suffering from the effort of picking up a human child, so Fett didn’t waste any time figuring out the reversed switches; this, at least, he could do blind. 

Luck was on their side--a few presses and flips and the massive door creaked to life. It had to fight gravity and hull damage to open but open it did, swinging up and away with only a minimal shower of sparks raining down on them.

Wherever they had landed had ample sunlight, enough to illuminate the inside of the ship for Boba to be able to see again; right on time for Bossk to grab his ankles and push him up over the lip of the doorway. He was still taking all of the boy’s weight though, his arms locked and extended so all Fett had to do was brace himself with his palms on the outside of the hull.

Cool, fresh wind met his face, and there was green as far as the eye could see.

“How’s it lookin’ out there?” Bossk called from below.

“Unfamiliar,” Boba replied.

_Where the karking hell are we?_

“Hnnn, promising,” Bossk hissed sarcastically. “Get off my hands, kid, lemme get a look for myself.”

Boba did as asked, throwing a knee up and over. Bossk gave him one last push up, and as soon as the boy was stable the lizard retreated. The sound of his claws on metal carried, growing fainter--Boba watched him back up all the way to the far wall they’d come in from, as far as he could get without going back into the smoke filled corridor.

The Trandoshan crouched, calculated, and then he was off like a shot, legs and arms pumping. Bossk's run became a sprint only a few meters from the wall, and then he was lunging, leaping up with all his strength. Boba watched him soar, grab the ledge, then scramble to keep a hold on the smooth outer hull.

“I got ya!” Surging forward Fett grabbed his arm and started tugging, though it didn’t do as much good as it would have if his ribs weren’t broken, and he wasn't also a twelve year-old boy trying to lift a six foot tall lizard-man. Luckily for them both Bossk was more-or-less strong enough to haul his entire body weight over the side, only losing his footing once, and Boba was about to start laughing in relief that they’d survived--then Bossk flopped forward, breathing a little _too_ hard, and Boba suddenly understood why earlier he'd recoiled so violently.

“Bossk!”

A gash, deep and red, running from shoulder to hip. It cut across the reptile’s back in one ugly, jagged line, and had ripped right through his flight suit and all the scales underneath. 

"It's just my back," Bossk snickered, though his heart wasn't in it. 

“ _Just your--”_ Boba started, then caught himself. “How? The crash?” The mental image of the other bounty hunter sprawled atop him like a shield sprang to the forefront of his mind.

“Nah, dashboard. Didn’t move in time, corner caught me on the way down.” 

“ _Osik,”_ Boba swore under his breath. “All our medkits are in the ship. Not to mention our weapons, and my helmet.” 

“Smoke’ll clear in a bit,” Bossk said. He winced as he crawled a little further from the lip of the hangar door, then splayed out his limbs fully in all directions. “We can go scrounging for ‘em then.”

“That’ll take forever,” Boba said, throwing up his hands as far as his ribs allowed. When the lizard didn’t reply Boba looked closer, and saw he’d shut his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Basking,” Bossk replied, eyes not opening. “Helps.”

Boba sighed and sat back beside him. He tried not to stare at Bossk’s wound, but the red of it was so stark in comparison to everything else, his gaze was drawn to it. Plus, as nonchalant as Bossk was acting, Fett knew he was in pain.

They both were.

Their wounds needed to be treated, and soon, but Boba was too short to get in and out of _Hound’s Tooth_ on his own, and though Bossk could probably locate their supplies easily enough he was in no shape to go spelunking about in the ship’s innards and leaping through doorways with his whole back torn open.

Not for the first time, Boba had the passing thought of the need for a grappling wire in his arsenal, and made a mental note that if they got off the planet alive he’d buy one the first chance he had.

“Why did we crash anyway?” he asked, running a hand through newly grown hair. They’d shaved his head in prison, but his hair grew fast, and there was just enough to angrily muss with his fingers. His glove came away dirty with soot. “Don’t tell me you lost control of the ship or something.”

“You’re just mad I won’t let you drive,” Bossk snorted. “Best guess is the guy we brought in had some friends that weren’t too happy with us. Probably followed us after we turned in the bounty.”

“You _guess_?” 

“Okay, next time a bunch of _assholes_ start blowing up the ship while you’re _asleep_ in the co-pilot’s seat, I’ll make sure to stop and ask what they want first.” 

There was a lot more bite to his words than Boba expected, and he hissed out the _‘s’_ in every word, dragging out the sound the way he only did when he was pissed. Boba flushed hot with shame remembering the whole reason Bossk was laid up was because he’d thrown Boba out of harm’s way and taken the brunt of what surely would have killed Fett in his place. And Boba _had_ fallen asleep--not a crime the last time he checked--which meant when things went south without warning, Bossk probably only had a handful of seconds to make a choice about how to save their skins and he’d used them to focus solely on protecting Boba.

“Sorry,” he said, suddenly feeling very small.

Bossk shifted next to him, as close an approximation to a shrug as he could make lying face down.

“Ah, don’t sweat it,” the reptile muttered. He turned his head to look at his young companion, eyes open again. It was hard to read expressions on a Trandoshan’s face, harder still to discern emotion in their gaze, but Boba had spent a lot of time around Bossk by that point, and he knew an apologetic look when he saw it.

Being caustic just because they were royally karked wasn’t going to get them anywhere. The only thing getting them out of this was patience; the smoke would clear, they’d go back in to get their stuff, and if the little Gods were merciful the comms were salvageable despite the dashboard’s complete removal from the wall.

Assuming they could get out a signal. If they couldn’t they’d have to try repairing the ship themselves. If they couldn’t repair the ship themselves, they’d have to head out on foot to find someone who could. If they couldn’t find someone who could, they--

“Boba.”

Fett’s head snapped up. He’d begun to curl into himself without realizing it, cradling his ribs on his knees. Boba looked down to see Bossk was still looking at him.

“What?”

“Relax, kid. We’re gonna be fine.”

 _Are we?_ His traitorous mind demanded. _It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it._

“Of course we are,” he said instead, fronting the confidence that currently eluded him, exactly like dad had taught. However, just like Boba had learned to read Bossk, Bossk had learned to read him, and few of Jango’s old tricks worked on the reptile anyway. It was immediately clear that Bossk didn’t buy his act for a second, and any other time would probably have called him out for it on the spot.

Instead he simply nodded, face-scales rubbing on the warm metal of the outer hull. One of his clawed hands patted Boba’s lower leg reassuringly, and even though the gesture did absolutely nothing to improve their situation Boba was surprised that he did feel marginally better. 

A powerful longing for his father swelled in his heart, something that happened almost every time the other bounty hunter did things like _that._ Things that Bossk had been doing with increasing frequency the more time they spent working together: congratulatory slaps on the shoulder, one-armed embraces that crushed Boba against his chest, a scaly hand ruffling what hair he had to ruffle while laughing at something Boba had said.

Or, much more recently, using his entire body like armor to spare his child employer the worst of a terrible crash that easily could have killed them both. When Boba had come to, Bossk was unconscious--who knew how badly he’d gotten his bell rung, trying to save Boba from cracking his helmet-less head on every durasteel wall? No matter how he looked at it, Fett couldn’t ignore the obvious: Bossk was doing precisely what his dad would have done, were he still alive to do it.

“Hey,” the other bounty hunter called, pulling Boba from his thoughts. “I’m gonna try to nod off while the sun’s still up. Give me a kick if anything comes to eat us, yeah?”

 _Oh. Right. It’s a forest planet. There could be anything out there in the trees, and who knows what heard us crash._ Boba’s hands itched for his blasters. They were exposed and unarmed and hurt and potentially stranded and he _really_ wished he had something to defend himself with.

Really wished he had something to defend _Bossk_ with.

_Would this scrap just burn out already?_

The smoke was thinning, albeit the slowest he’d ever seen, but it _was_ thinning.

“Sure,” Boba promised. He pivoted so he could watch Bossk, the smoke trail, and a portion of the treeline all at once. His hand moved to reciprocate Bossk’s earlier gesture, hesitated, unsure of where was safe to touch without hurting him, and then slowly settled on the Trandoshan’s arm, giving it a few quick pats.

He wouldn’t have thought it all that comforting himself, but Bossk didn’t voice any displeasure or attempt to stop him. A minute later and the giant lizard was out cold, hissing softly through his fangs every time he snored.

 _Dead to the world,_ Boba thought. It was the only kind of “dead” Bossk was allowed to be, in his opinion. Bossk was a deep sleeper, and that made it criminally easy to scoot over, just a bit, and press himself into as much of the reptile’s side as he dared. The gash in Bossk’s back had long since stopped bleeding, congealing along the edges of ragged skin and missing scales, and Boba silently marveled at all his partner had withstood on his behalf. The Trandoshan capability for regenerative healing was well-documented, Boba had no doubt Bossk would bounce back from this--probably without scarring actually, if he also shed in the next month or so--and be on his feet earning creds again in no time.

Boba also knew Trandoshan’s were as susceptible to being crushed to death by thousands of pounds of metal debris as any other species, and Bossk could just as easily have moved out of the way, saving himself a hell of a lot of trouble, and blood. Instead he’d wasted precious seconds getting Boba to safety, and it may very well have almost cost him his life.

Losing his dad had devastated Boba; his nightmares continued to be plagued by blades of purple light and empty helmets, even with two years between him and Geonosis. It had driven him to lengths he had never dreamed himself capable of and made the entire Jedi Order his enemy. It set him on a path of revenge that put him in prison, betrayed and unfulfilled, and had he been forced to walk that path alone Boba could only guess at the kind of monster he might have become.

But he hadn’t been alone. Bossk had been there, and Bossk stayed by his side despite having no real reason to. Bounty hunters were supposed to be money driven loners, friendless freelancers that walked the fine line between criminal and lawman, and only partnered up to get the job done and when it was finished they went their separate ways.

Not Bossk though.

_If you got a problem with Boba, you got a problem with me._

Fett wasn’t paying him. There was no job. Kriff, they hadn’t even successfully pulled off the one Boba _did_ hire him for. He couldn’t comprehend _why_ Bossk stuck around, why he kept sticking his scaly neck out for some kid that had yet to live up to his family name, or do much of anything besides screw up and waste everybody’s time and nearly get them killed. 

Or at least he hadn’t, until one day, without any fanfare at all, Bossk had put a clawed hand on Boba’s shoulder, given it a soft squeeze and shake, and told him with uncharacteristic warmth, “Good work, kid.”

_Good work, kid._

_Kid._

The significance of everything up to that point had crashed into Boba’s core, much as their ship had crashed into this strange, unknown planet.

If Bossk died, Boba didn’t know what he’d do. He’d already lost one father.

He wasn’t sure he could stand to lose another.

**Author's Note:**

> [I've been dying to make some wholesome Bossk and Boba bonding fic, and writing this little one-off (maybe) fic was a nice break from To The Wild. The bounty hunters are my favorite side characters in Star Wars and I'd pay good money for a space western style show like The Mandalorian but just about the collective shit show that is Krayt's Claw and company. Give Bossk and Cad Bane more screen time you COWARDS.]


End file.
